Of Snakes and Men
by Quicksilver Falcon
Summary: Harry is ditched by the Dursleys and raised by a Basilisk in the wild, turning into a snake himself. What happens when Voldemort decides to keep this new serpent? Challenge fic. Eventual HarryVoldemort slash MM,AU,Minor. Also on
1. Prologue

Legal Stuff

--Disclaimer: JKR owns them, I don't. Also, I am indebted to Deirdre Riordan of the HPRndRobin for the 'Harry learning to cook' scene (Walking in His Shoes on great fic, you should go read it. After you read mine.)

--Warnings: this is (or will be anyway) Harry/Voldemort Slash with secondary pairings including, but not limited to, Hermione/Lucius. So if any aspect of that squicks you, please leave now or forever hold your peace.

-There will probably be no explicit smut in this story because I'm really bad at writing it. Sorry if that disappoints anyone.

-This includes Morally Ambiguous Voldemort and Manipulative Prick Dumbledore. If you have strong views on how those characters "should" be, you may be offended.

--Archive: Just let me know.

--Terms of Challenge: (I actually found this in another story)

-Harry was raised by a serpent (or any other anguiform being), so the only language he understood was Parseltongue.

-Harry had stayed with the Dursleys until he was 4 years old, and was abused by them, thus his distrust of humans.

-Harry learned to become an Animagus (by himself or from others, whatever), and he chose his Animagus form to be a silver (or black) serpent.

-Voldemort would think Harry was just an unknown poisonous snake and take him as his new pet (at first anyhow).

Denotes Parseltongue

"Denotes English"

Denotes telepathy

'Denotes thoughts'

Constructive criticism welcome, encouraged, begged for…etc. Flamers will be fed to Nagini.

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Of Snakes and Men

Prologue

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Everyone knows the story of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Savior of the Wizarding World, et cetera and of his guardians, the magic hating Dursleys. I don't like or agree with the Dursleys, but I can understand their outlook.

People hate what they fear and it is human nature to fear the unknown. So, in case there are any more Dursleys out there, I am going to attempt to explain magic as I understand it.

Magic is nothing more or less than the will needed to explore impossible possibilities. Anyone who's ever played "what if" knows it, at least on some level. Magic is the Great What If, the power to not just speculate on the impossible but to create it, to bring into existence what could never have been. The power, if you will, of faith in potential.

This story too is a What If, an exploration of possibilities and circumstances that never occurred in the "real" world of the canon. Like all fan fiction it speaks of might-have-beens, but indulge me, and remember this:

Anything is possible.

Enjoy.


	2. Chapter One

center>Chapter One

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"Boy! Get up, now!" BANG! BANG! BANG! "I'm not going to tell you again!"

Little Harry (not that he knew that, in all his four years he had never been called anything but "Boy") woke to the sound of Aunt Petunia yelling and banging on his cupboard door. As always. Sigh. He got up and got ready to start his day. When he left his cupboard, Uncle Vernon was at the table reading the newspaper, but breakfast wasn't ready. He soon found out why.

"Boy, you have been living on our charity for the last three years and all you've given us is insolence and ingratitude," Aunt Petunia said. The boy didn't even know what the words 'insolence' and 'ingratitude' meant, but he did know not to ask. Don't ask questions, he was always told, sometimes with a slap across his face for good measure. He didn't want to get slapped. Aunt Petunia was still talking.

"Well, the free ride is over. It's time you started pulling your own weight around here. Get to it. I want breakfast on the table by the time Dudley gets up."

Of course, the little boy had no idea how to cook. He couldn't even see over the stove! But saying so didn't help so he tried his best. It was awful. Everything went wrong. And Aunt Petunia yelled at him the whole time, which didn't help. Finally, the boy started to cry. That made Aunt Petunia even madder and she hit him twice across the face. At that, the four-year-old cried harder yet, and the pans on the stove blew up! Uncle Vernon got really mad at that. He dragged the little boy into his cupboard, calling him a "useless freak." The child didn't know what that meant, but it sounded bad.

They didn't let him out of his cupboard or give him food or water for the next three days. Luckily, he was able to sneak out when they were asleep at night to take care of his needs.

When Aunt Petunia did bang on his door again, it was as bad as last time. She told him to cook and he still couldn't. He cried again and again got hit. But instead of locking him up again, Uncle Vernon dragged him out to the car, saying, "I won't have a freak like you in the house if you can't even make yourself useful." They didn't go to Mrs. Figg's house, the only other place the boy had ever been. They went much further away. Finally Uncle Vernon and the child got out at the edge of a forest. Uncle Vernon took the boy over the broken-down fence that separated woods and road and deep into the trees before telling him harshly to 'Stay right where he was or he'd regret it' and leaving his nephew there. Tired, confused, and abandoned, the little boy cried himself to sleep on the forest floor.

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Deep in the secret rooms of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is the Registry of Potential Students, an ancient book containing the names and residences of every magical child in Britain. The Headmaster and Deputy are alerted when a name appears or vanishes indicating birth or death, but a child's location is updated every time the child sleeps in a new place and is not generally kept track of by the staff of the school. Harry Potter's case was no exception. No one noticed his change of address.


	3. Chapter Two

center>Chapter Two

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Unbeknownst to Vernon Dursley; the forest in which he had dumped little Harry was a wildlife preserve and, as a place humans almost never went, had become something of a haven for magical creatures of all sorts. And many of these creatures were dangerous.

Most dangerous of all in the forest was Moirethe who, in addition to being magical, was also very old and very wise. Her advice and judgments were heeded by all the other animals, and not only for their wisdom, as she ruled also with the threat of her venomous bite and deadly gaze.

Moirethe was a basilisk.

Just now, Moirethe was a very _bored_ basilisk.

With no current batch of young snakelings to tend and the recent settling of the territory dispute between the Quintapeds and the Acromantulas (she'd eaten a few who'd persisted in quarrelling with her, but such is life) Moirethe had nothing to do, and no basilisk, even an ancient one, likes doing nothing.

So the old snake was exploring her forest, slithering past tree after almost identical tree and wishing something would happen.

Even as she thought that wish, Moirethe caught the faint scent of human on the breeze. Humans in her forest, hmm? Well, that was something indeed. Her mood much improved, Moirethe went to investigate.

Whatever the old basilisk had expected to find at the source of the human smell, this wasn't it. It was a human, yes, but barely more than a hatchling and the only adult spoor was far from fresh, the adult in question long gone. Moirethe knew that the little one was nowhere near old enough to fend for itself and that this wasn't how humans did things.

This was a puzzle.

Moirethe loved solving puzzles. She eagerly began studying the human nestling (child, she remembered, a human nestling was called a child) for clues. And found them.

It was magical. _Very _magical.

It was male, she thought. With humans so young it was difficult to be sure.

He was injured, his face and upper arm bruised.

The bruises were hand-shaped and adult sized.

And he appeared to be very ill fed, so much so that Moirethe wondered if he wouldn't do better on his own after all. She wondered how the little one would react to her. She decided to stay until he woke and find out.


	4. Chapter Three

center>Chapter Three

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Little Harry woke in the dappled light of the late afternoon sun through the trees. It felt strange. He'd never woken up to sunlight before. But Uncle Vernon had left him here and told him to stay. And if he was here, and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia and Dudley _weren't_, that meant they couldn't hit or yell at him anymore. Cheered, the little boy sat up and took a look around his new home.

Awake at last. I was starting to think you would sleep the whole day away. Startled, the little boy looked around for the source of the low, hissing voice. But the only thing he saw was a snake bigger around than Uncle Vernon staring at him with glowing, interested red eyes. Nah, couldn't be. Or could it?

Excuse me, but did you just talk? > he asked the snake hesitantly.

To say Moirethe was surprised would be an understatement. Utterly gobsmacked was more like it. This human boy had just spoken Parseltongue.

You mean you _understood_ me? > the basilisk hissed, perhaps more harshly than she meant to.

Y-yes ma'am. Wasn't I supposed to? > stammered the boy, unsure enough to risk the question but unwilling to annoy a creature that could swallow him in one bite.

Few can, > replied the snake thoughtfully. The last time I met a human who spoke my language was long before you were born. Even among wizards it is a great and rare gift you have, child. >

Okay, she didn't seem annoyed. >

Wizards? My aunt and uncle say I'm a freak. That's why they left me here, I think. >

Then they are fools twice over. You are a wizard, and a very powerful and special one. >stated Moirethe categorically. Where are your parents? >

Dead, > sighed the boy. My aunt and uncle take care of me. >

Pretty poor care from the looks of it,> snorted Moirethe. When did you last eat? >

Well, I got some bread and water last night. >

And do your 'caretakers' eat the same way? Are they incapable of feeding their family properly? >Moirethe was developing a dislike for this 'aunt' and 'uncle' and her tone was again hostile.

N-no ma'am, I was being punished. >

By deprivation? How crude. For what? >

Not being able to cook. >

Who taught you to cook? >

No one. That was the problem. >

Sso you were being i>punished /i> for not being able to do something you never learned how to do. >

Yes, Ma'am. > Her opinion of these so-called caretakers was dropping by the moment.

I see. And my name is Moirethe, not 'ma'am'. >

Yes, ma-Moirethe. >

Good. Do you think they'll come back for you? >

I hope they don't. I like it better here with you. >

Good grief, these people must have been terrible indeed. Moirethe knew that most humans liked sentimentality and she certainly wasn't being 'warm and fuzzy'. Still, twice in one conversation the boy had managed to surprise her and to Moirethe, that capacity alone made him worth keeping. And he was a charming child, really, so adorably unsure of himself for one who showed such potential power.

Then you shall stay. What is your name? >

I don't really have one,> Harry-who-didn't-know-it confessed. My aunt and uncle call me "Boy" and my cousin calls me "Runt" and that's it. >

Ssss-sss… that won't do. We shall have to find something better for you, > the snake declared. She looked him up and down for a minute, her tongue flicking out to taste the boy's aura and potential.

How about Naiser? Founder of nations? >

Yeah, I like that. > replied Naiser, happy to be called anything as long as it was said kindly.

I'm glad. Now that that's settled, let's see about finding you some real food. >

After showing her new charge how to recognize and pick the herbs and mushrooms that would be safe and nourishing for him to eat, Moirethe, equally at home on land or water, went fishing in the nearby river for something more substantial. She quickly snared a trout of suitable size, only to remember another problem. Humans liked to sear their food with fire before eating it and Moirethe had no way to make a fire. Ah, well. Naiser was a wizard, after all and, youngling or no it was never too early to start learning to do for oneself. He could magic up his own fire, or eat the fish raw.

When Moirethe and her fish got back to the clearing where she'd left Naiser, and she explained that, he was all for trying to conjure fire. So, Moirethe helped him get set up, the two of them building a fire pit and arranging the fish over their kindling on a spit.

Now, you need a straight stick to wave around. Try to find one that fits comfortably in your hand, > Moirethe instructed, continuing when Naiser had one.

All right, that's called your want-stick because you make things happen by wanting them. You look at the wood and _want_ it to burn. Want it as badly as you've ever wanted anything. Picture it burning. _See _it in your mind, and _focus_ on having it happen. Got that? >

Naiser stared at the wood in concentration for a minute and then nodded.

Good, now you point your want-stick at the wood and tell it out loud to burn. >

Burn, Naiser hissed obediently, still focused on the wood. The boy didn't make a real fire but he was able to produce several small sparks that caught quickly on the dry tinder and had the same end result. For a first effort at controlled magic, it was pretty spectacular, and Moirethe said so.

Very good Naiser. Few younglings could have mastered that kind of focus on their first try. >

Well, I _really_ didn't want to have to eat it raw and I'm _hungry_, > replied the boy, blushing at the praise. Moirethe was still pretty impressed, but decided to drop it. Instead, she asked little Naiser to tell him more about his life before he came to her forest. By the time the boy was done with his account of abuse and neglect, Moirethe was determined that if these relatives of his ever did show up again she would kill them at once. And by the time he was done with his meal and asleep, Moirethe was wrapped around him protectively and was starting to think of him as her own.


	5. Chapter Four

center>Chapter 4

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The next two weeks passed peacefully for Moirethe and Naiser. The boy had already mastered starting a fire and making things float and was now working on getting them to come to him. He was also studying the rarely used written form of Parseltongue and how to interpret the various collections of signs and warnings used by other animals. Moirethe was quite pleased with his progress. But, though he had learned a lot on other subjects, Naiser still knew almost nothing about the reserved creature who was his guardian. Finally, one evening he worked up the courage to try asking.

Moirethe? >

Yes, Wizardling? > she replied, using her pet name for him.

C-could you tell me about yourself tonight? >

Certainly, if you truly wish to know. >

I do. Very much. >

Very well. We should start at the beginning, then. Do you know anything about Basilisks in general? >

No. >

Then we begin with that, to put me in the proper context. Basilisks were originally created by Wizards as a weapon in a terrible war a very long time ago. Even now, we are happiest when acting as peacekeepers or guards of some sort and often work closely with humans we like. >

Our full, unshielded gaze kills—you've seen me do that—which is why we have the secondary eyelids. A Basilisk with red eyes is safe, but if you ever see yellow eyes on a Basilisk, that's the last thing you'll ever see. Also, we have two kinds of venom and armored skin. One of our poisons kills and the other makes it so the person can't move. Still with me? >

I think so. >

Good. Feel free to stop me if you have a question. Now, Basilisks are like to be alone most of the time but family members will often have overlapping territories and mates always will so they can visit. Basilisk mothers care for and teach their young for about the first seven to ten years and we mate whenever we like. >

As for myself, I was born and raised in a forest much like this. When I came of age and had learned all my mother had to teach me, I left the forest all together to see the world. >

A few years later, I met a Wizard whose magic was compatible with mine and became his Familiar. He was a Parselmouth, like you—they weren't so rare then. I stayed with him for two hundred years until he died. >

His youngest daughter had the gift as well and as she was very young indeed when she lost her parents, I took care of her for another decade until she no longer needed me. It was from them that I learned the human language and most of what I know of human magic. >

After I left the Witch, I carried out my original plan of exploring the world. I think I've been just about everywhere. Eventually, though I decided to settle down and establish a territory here and here I've been ever since, keeping peace among the others and raising young. Now I plan to teach you all my mother taught me and all the human magic I know, but after that you must seek your own fortune. Does that answer all your questions? >

Almost. How old are you? >

Moirethe chuckled. Nine hundred and forty-seven. Now go to sleep. >

Some time later: Moirethe? >

What now? >

I don't like the idea of having to leave you. >

Don't worry, Wizardling. By the time it happens you'll be ready for it. It's part of growing up. Now go to sleep. >

And finally, they did.


	6. Chapter Five

center>Chapter 5  
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That night set the pattern for the next several months. During the day Naiser studied, with forest politics added to his curriculum along with the magic and survival skills. In the evenings Moirethe would tell him stories of her long life. Some of them were funny, like the one about her crazy aunt's crazier wizard who took them to live in a school. But some were heartbreaking, like the story of the last Parselmouth Moirethe had known, a child killed by the Wizarding government because his parents had supported their enemy Grindewald. It was after the boy's death that Moirethe had turned her tail on the human world forever.

Naiser had by this time developed a deep love for both Moirethe and the forest itself, and didn't care if he never saw another human again. But he eventually developed a problem.

Good morning Moirethe. Yikes! It's cold, was his greeting to the world that fall day.

Good morning Wizardling. And it's small wonder you're cold with your clothes worn to rags as they are. It would be much easier if you had fur or scales of your own, grumped Moirethe, who was not a morning creature.

Could I get some? With a magic, maybe?

Sss… perhaps. There have been wizards and witches who could turn into animals, but I'm not sure how they go about it.

Well, other things happen when I picture them and want it. Perhaps I could think myself into a snake form while you tell me what it's like.

Very well, we shall try it. Compose your mind and follow my voice. Your sight has become secondary to your senses of smell and taste. The air currents on your tongue tell you of the trees, the flowers, that deer over the rise, and more. Scent defines your world. In addition, your vision has expanded greatly. You can see the heat given off by living things and judge them by that warmth. Having no limbs, you must slither low to the ground, but you are no less graceful for that. All the better to find the soft underbelly of your prey. You have long fangs, attached to poison glands, with which you can kill prey or enemies. Interlocking scales cover your whole body like protective armor, and you are magnificent. As Moirethe spoke, she could taste Naiser's magic swirling and focusing around them. By the time she was done the old basilisk could see that it had worked.

Look at yourself, she hissed softly.

Naiser did so and was awed. He was magnificent. He was not quite a basilisk. His scales were silver, with a black lightning bolt pattern, and he had no crest. His eyes remained green and he was only about four feet long. But, as the unfortunate deer soon discovered, he was very poisonous and he was more than satisfied. Moirethe breathed a little easier, for now that her Wizardling was a snake, humans couldn't take him away. She shifted the primary focus of their lessons off magic and onto serpent lore, and thus continued her ward's education.


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Meanwhile, far away at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a certain Headmaster was _not_ having a good morning. Just after sunrise the shrilling of alarms had woken him with the knowledge that the school's magic had lost track of a prospective student. And not just any student, either. Five-year-old Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived and Savior of the Wizarding world had just fallen off the map. No, this was not good at all. So Dumbledore had sent his Potions Master and useful doer of dirty work, Professor Severus Snape to the home of Harry's guardians to find out what had happened. He was now anxiously awaiting Snape's report.

The man in question was currently on the front porch of Number Four Privet Drive ringing the bell loudly. The door was finally opened by Mrs. Dursley who, upon seeing a man in wizards robes, immediately tried to close it on him. But Snape was having none of that, and pushed his way into the house.

"Harry has gone missing, do you know where he is?" the wizard demanded without preamble.

"How should I know where the ungrateful little swine took himself off to. He ran away a while back and we haven't heard from him since. Probably dead in a gutter somewhere and good riddance, too." Mr. Dursley snarled, wanting to get rid of this intruder as quickly as possible. But Snape wouldn't be got rid of so easily.

"Ran away? A five year old? And have you made no attempt to look for him?"

"That's right!" snapped Mrs. Dursley. "We never wanted the little freak in the first place. Why should we care?"

"I see." Snape was appalled. "Good bye." And with that, he Apparated out.

Of course, Snape's report to Dumbledore started a massive Wizarding boyhunt all throughout the village of Little Winging and its environs, but of course they found nothing. Eventually, they were indeed forced to give the child up for dead.

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley spent five years in jail for child endangerment and neglect.

Moirethe, what _exactly_ does a want-stick do in magic?

Makes it easier to direct and control, I think. Why do you ask, Wizardling?

I miss doing magic and I was wondering if it was possible in this form.

I believe want-sticks work to focus magic, the way a crystal can focus the sunlight. To do magic without one would mean doing all the focusing in your own mind and heart and soul. Difficult, probably, for some, but certainly do-able. We can start experimenting in the morning, if you like.

I would. Very much. It was the only good thing about being human. I don't want to give it up.

Naiser soon found that his magic worked just as well as it ever had.


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